The Kadambari of Bana

[Dark Saint Alaick]

THE PLAN OF THE TRANSLATION


The translation of Bana presents much difficulty from the elaboration
of his style, and it has been a specially hard task, and sometimes
an impossible one, to give any rendering of the constant play on
words in which he delights. I have sometimes endeavoured to give
what might be an English equivalent, and in such cases I have
added in a note the literal meaning of both alternatives; perhaps
too much freedom may have been used, and sometimes also the best
alternative may not have been chosen to place in the text; but those
who have most experience will know how hard it is to do otherwise
than fail. Some long descriptions have been omitted, such, e.g.,
as a passage of several pages describing how the dust rose under
the feet of Candrapida's army, and others where there seemed no
special interest or variety to redeem their tediousness. A list of
these omissions [33] is given at the end, together with an appendix,
in which a few passages, chiefly interesting as mentioning religious
sects, are added. I have acted on Professor Cowell's advice as to the
principle on which omissions are made, as also in giving only a full
abstract, and not a translation, of the continuation of 'Kadambari'
by Bhushana. It is so entirely an imitation of his father's work in
style, with all his faults, and without the originality that redeems
them, that it would not reward translation. In my abstract I have
kept the direct narration as more simple, but even when passages are
given rather fully, it does not profess in any case to be more than
a very free rendering; sometimes only the sense of a whole passage
is summed up. I regret that the system of transliteration approved
by the Royal Asiatic Society came too late for adoption here.

The edition of 'Kadambari' to which the references in the text are
given is that of the Nirnaya-Sagara Press (Bombay, 1890), which
the full commentary makes indispensable, but I have also throughout
made use of Professor Peterson's edition (Bombay Sanskrit Series,
No. xxiv.). For the last half of the Second Part [34] I have referred
to an anonymous literal translation, published by the New Britannia
Press Depository, 78, Amherst Street, Calcutta.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

I have now to offer my grateful thanks to the Secretary of State
for India, without whose kind help the volume could not have been
published. I have also to thank Miss C. M. Duff for allowing me to use
the MS. of her 'Indian Chronology'; Miss E. Dale, of Girton College,
for botanical notes, which I regret that want of space prevented my
printing in full; Mr. C. Tawney, librarian of the Indian Office, for
information as to the sources of Indian fiction; Mr. F. F. Arbuthnot
and Professor Rhys-Davids, for valuable advice; Professor C. Bendall,
for his description of the Kamandakiya-Niti-Çastra, and his constant
kindness about my work; Mr. F. W. Thomas, of Trinity College, for
letting me see the proof-sheets of the translation of the 'Harsha
Carita'; and others for suggested renderings of difficult phrases,
and for help of various kinds.

But especially my thanks are due to Professor Cowell [35] for a
generosity and unwearied helpfulness which all his pupils know,
and which perhaps few but they could imagine. I read through with
him the whole of the First Part before translating it myself, so that
mistakes in the translation, many as they may be, can arise only from
misunderstanding on my part, from too great freedom of rendering,
or from failing to have recourse to the knowledge he so freely gives.


'Vrihatsahayah karyantam kshodiyanapi gacchati;
Sambhuyambodhim abhyeti mahanadya nagapaga.'

[Dark Saint Alaick]

And Now...

[Dark Saint Alaick]

(1) Hail to the Birthless, the cause of creation, continuance, and
destruction, triple [36] in form and quality, who shows activity in
the birth of things, goodness in their continuance, and darkness in
their destruction.

(2) Glory to the dust of Tryambaka's feet, caressed by the diadem
of the demon Bana [37]; even that dust that kisses the circle of
Ravana's ten crest-gems, that rests on the crests of the lords of
gods and demons, and that destroys our transitory life.

(3) Glory to Vishnu, who, resolving to strike from afar, with but
a moment's glance from his wrath-inflamed eye stained the breast of
his enemy, as if it had burst of itself in terror.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

I salute the lotus feet of Bhatsu, [38] honoured by crowned Maukharis:
the feet which have their tawny toes rubbed on a footstool made by
the united crowns of neighbouring kings.

Who is there that fears not the wicked, pitiless in causeless enmity;
in whose mouth calumny hard to bear is always ready as the poison of
a serpent?

The wicked, like fetters, echo harshly, wound deeply, and leave a
scar; while the good, like jewelled anklets, ever charm the mind with
sweet sounds.

(4) In a bad man gentle words sink no deeper than the throat, like
nectar swallowed by Rahu. The good man bears them constantly on his
heart, as Hari his pure gem.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

A story tender with the charm of gracious speech, creates in the heart
joy full of fresh interest [39]; and it comes of itself, with native
feeling, to its lord's possession, like a fresh bride. [40]

Who is not carried captive by tales fashioned in freshness of
speech, all alight with similes, and the lamps of glowing words
[41]: pleasant tales interwoven with many a contrast of words, [42]
as jasmine garlands with campak buds?

There was once a Brahman, Kuvera by name, sprung from the race of
Vatsyayana, sung throughout the world for his virtue, a leader of the
good: his lotus feet were worshipped by many a Gupta, and he seemed
a very portion of Brahma.

(5) On his mouth Sarasvati ever dwelt: for in it all evil was stilled
by the Veda; it had lips purified by sacrificial cake, and a palate
bitter with soma, and it was pleasant with smriti and çastra.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

In his house frightened boys, as they repeated verses of the Yajur
and Sama Veda, were chidden at every word by caged parrots and mainas,
who were thoroughly versed in everything belonging to words.

From him was born Arthapati, a lord of the twice-born, as Hiranyagarbha
from the world-egg, the moon from the Milky Ocean, or Garuda from
Vinata.

As he unfolded his spreading discourse day by day at dawn, new troops
of pupils, intent on listening, [43] gave him a new glory, like fresh
sandal-shoots fixed on the ear.

(6) With countless sacrifices adorned with gifts duly offered, [44]
having glowing Mahavira fires in their midst, [45] and raising the
sacrificial posts as their hands, [46] he won easily, as if with a
troop of elephants, the abode of the gods.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

He in due course obtained a son, Citrabhanu, who amongst his other
noble and glorious sons, all versed in çruti and çastra, shone as
crystal, like Kailasa among mountains.

The virtues of that noble man, reaching far and gleaming bright as a
digit of the moon, yet without its spot, pierced deep even into the
hearts of his foes, like the budding claws of Nrisimha (Vishnu).

The dark smoke of many a sacrifice rose like curls on the brow of the
goddesses of the sky; or like shoots of tamala on the ear of the bride,
the Threefold Veda, and only made his own glory shine more bright.

From him was born a son, Bana, when the drops that rose from
the fatigue of the soma sacrifice were wiped from his brow by the
folded lotus hands of Sarasvati, and when the seven worlds had been
illuminated by the rays of his glory.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

(7) By that Brahman, albeit with a mind keeping even in his unspoken
words its original dullness blinded by the darkness of its own utter
folly, and simple from having never gained the charm of ready wit, this
tale, surpassing the other two, [47] was fashioned, even Kadambari.



There was once upon a time a king named Çudraka. Like a second
Indra, he had his commands honoured by the bent heads of all kings;
he was lord of the earth girt in by the four oceans; he had an army
of neighbouring chiefs bowed down in loyalty to his majesty; he had
the signs of a universal emperor; (8) like Vishnu, his lotus-hand bore
the sign of the conch and the quoit; like Çiva, he had overcome Love;
like Kartikeya, he was unconquerable in might [48]; like Brahma, he
had the circle of great kings humbled [49]; like the ocean, he was
the source of Lakshmi; like the stream of Ganges, he followed in the
course of the pious king Bhagiratha; like the sun, he rose daily in
fresh splendour; like Meru, the brightness of his foot was honoured by
all the world; like the elephant of the quarters, [50] he constantly
poured forth a stream of generosity. He was a worker of wonders, an
offerer of sacrifices, a mirror of moral law, a source of the arts, a
native home of virtue; a spring of the ambrosial sweetness of poetry,
a mountain of sunrise to all his friends, [51] and a direful comet to
all his foes. (9) He was, moreover, a founder of literary societies,
a refuge for men of taste, a rejecter of haughty bowholders, a leader
among the bold, a chief among the wise. He was a cause of gladness to
the humble, as Vainateya [52] was to Vinata. He rooted up with the
point of his bow the boundary-mountains of his foes as Prithuraja
did the noble mountains. He mocked Krishna, also, for while the
latter made his boast of his man-lion form, he himself smote down
the hearts of his foes by his very name, and while Krishna wearied
the universe with his three steps, he subdued the whole world by one
heroic effort. Glory long dwelt on the watered edge of his sword, as
if to wash off the stain of contact with a thousand base chieftains,
which had clung to her too long.

[Dark Saint Alaick]

By the indwelling of Dharma in his mind, Yama in his wrath, Kuvera in
his kindness, Agni in his splendour, Earth in his arm, Lakshmi in his
glance, Sarasvati in his eloquence, (10) the Moon in his face, the Wind
in his might, Brihaspati in his knowledge, Love in his beauty, the Sun
in his glory, he resembled holy Narayana, whose nature manifests every
form, and who is the very essence of deity. Royal glory came to him
once for all, like a woman coming to meet her lover, on the nights of
battle stormy with the showers of ichor from the elephants' temples,
and stood by him in the midst of the darkness of thousands of coats of
mail, loosened from the doors of the breasts of warriors. She seemed
to be drawn irresistibly by his sword, which was uneven in its edge,
by reason of the drops of water forced out by the pressure of his
strong hand, and which was decked with large pearls clinging to it
when he clove the frontal bones of wild elephants. The flame of his
majesty burnt day and night, as if it were a fire within his foes'
fair wives, albeit reft of their lords, as if he would destroy the
husbands now only enshrined in their hearts.